


belch gets the flu

by lukegodbaby



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Other, Reader-Insert, References to Sex, ambiguously gendered reader, those damn beans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 20:51:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17874647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lukegodbaby/pseuds/lukegodbaby
Summary: belch gets the flu and the whole gang shows up to help out





	belch gets the flu

When Belch got sick, everyone fell to pieces. He wasn’t just their ride everywhere, though of course that was important, he was… he was everything.

 

Henry’s self-control, Vic’s sounding board, Patrick’s favorite lay, your… well. He was a lot to you. It was hard to pin down exactly what he gave you, but you needed it.

 

You got the first call from him.

 

“Hey.” He sounded deflated.

 

“Hey, babe. What’s going on?”

 

“I got the flu,” he said.

 

“The flu? Jesus. I’m so sorry, babe.”

 

“It’s okay.”

 

“No, it’s not. You probably feel like shit, it’s not okay.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Do you want us to come over?”

 

“You don’t have to, baby. I can take care of myself.”

 

“Well, I know that. But maybe I want to take care of you, too.”

 

He didn’t say anything for a moment, but you knew he was smiling.

 

“I guess I don’t have any choice in it?”

 

It was your turn to smile.

 

“Now you’re catching on. I’ll be there, soon. And I’m bringing the boys.”

 

He huffed.

 

“I guess I’ll see you, then.”

 

“Yeah. Bye, babe.”

 

“Bye.”

 

You called Henry as soon as you hung up with Belch.

 

“Henry.”

 

“Yeah? What’s up?” He sounded distracted. Butch was probably in the room, then.

 

“Belch’s sick.”

 

“Oh, damn. What’s he got?”

 

“The flu.”

 

“I’ll be there. Just as soon as I can, I’ll be there.”

 

“Okay. Bring some beans or something. I’m strapped for cash, or I’d bring him soup.”

 

“Yeah, okay. I’ll tell Vic to bring something. Not gonna make him eat that shit.”

 

He called Vic so you wouldn’t have to.

 

You called Patrick.

 

“Yeah?” He sounded annoyed.

 

“Patrick. Belch is sick.”

 

“So?”

 

You sighed. “So. We need to go see him.”

 

“What, is he in the hospital or something?” He finally sounded excited.

 

He was probably the only person you knew who actually liked hospitals. He went as often as he could when he got particularly fucked up in a fight. He was the only one of you whose parents had the money for that. You’d catch major hell if you pulled that shit.

 

“No, he’s at home.”

 

Patrick sighed.

 

“So?” he said again.

 

“So. He can’t blow you when he’s sick.”

 

He made a dismissive noise.

 

“Patrick, if you don’t do this, _I_ won’t blow you until he’s better.”

 

“God, fine. Okay. I’ll be there soon.”

 

You were the first person who arrived, though as you stood on the porch for a second, catching your breath — you practically ran the whole way — Vic ran up the walk, holding a plastic container.

 

“Hey,” he gasped.

 

“Hey,” you said, stifling a laugh.

 

You reached out and smoothed his hair. He sighed, closing his eyes.

 

“Soup?” you asked.

 

“Yeah. We had some sitting around. It’s just Campbell’s, but fuck it.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You seen him yet?” he asked.

 

“Nah. Just got here.”

 

“Okay. Let’s go in?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

You let yourself into the house, noting that Mrs. Huggins’ car wasn’t there.

 

“Belch?” called Vic.

 

You heard a groan coming from Belch’s room. You rushed toward it, mildly horrified. He must be feeling really terrible.

 

When you got to his bedroom door, the place was silent and still. In a bundle of blankets and pillows, Belch lay on his bed, eyes closed.

 

You went to sit on the edge of the bed, instinctively reaching out to lay a hand on his forehead.

 

“Hey, babe. How you feeling?” you asked.

 

He cracked his eyes, smiling at you.

 

“Just fine.”

 

“Liar,” said Vic. He still stood at the doorway, obviously not wanting to get much closer.

 

You jerked your head, silently telling him to get the fuck over here. He shook his head. You rolled your eyes.

 

“I brought soup,” he said.

 

“Hey, thanks,” said Belch.

 

Then he coughed. It was an ugly thing, and you instinctively leaned away from him.

 

“I’m gonna — go heat this up,” Vic said, leaving you two alone.

 

“I’m so sorry you’re sick, babe,” you said.

 

“Really, it’s okay. It happens.”

 

“Well, I know that, but still. This sucks.”

 

Belch coughed some more. “Tell me about it.”

 

“What’d your momma say?”

 

“Drink a lot of water, sleep a lot. She’ll be back as soon as she can after her shift is over.”

 

“Oh.” Mrs. Huggins was a nurse, so she sure knew her stuff. “Do you need any painkillers?”

 

“Got some,” he said, gesturing to his bedside table, which was littered with sick people things: a box of tissues, empty glasses, bottles of pills.

 

“When’d you last take some?” asked a voice from the door.

 

You turned. It was Henry, breathing hard and wet with sweat. Looks like you and Vic weren’t the only ones who booked it here.

 

“Coupla hours ago,” said Belch. “Hey, Hank.”

 

“Hey, big guy. You look like shit.”

 

“Feel like it, too.”

 

“You need to take more. You got something to drink?”

 

“Nope. Ran out a while back.”

 

You groaned. “Belch, your momma said to drink water.”

 

“Didn’t feel like getting up for it.”

 

You reached over him, grabbing two glasses off his side table. You figured the more, the better. Then you got up off the bed, heading toward the kitchen.

 

As you passed Henry, you stopped, giving him a short kiss.

 

“Thanks for coming,” you said.

 

“Well, it was lucky. I just finished my chores when you called, or I wouldn’t be here.”

 

“That is lucky.”

 

He shrugged.

 

You went into the kitchen, where Vic was standing next to the stove, chewing on the skin next to one of his fingernails, watching a small pot heat up his soup.

 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said.

 

“Hey. You okay?”

 

“I don’t wanna get sick, that’s all.”

 

“Mm. Okay.”

 

You filled up both glasses with water, then, before you went back to Belch’s room, you turned to Vic again.

 

“Please just… I don’t know. Sit on the other side of the room or something. He needs us.”

 

Vic grunted instead of really replying. You knew his anxiety about this was winning right now, but hopefully it wouldn’t win the whole day.

 

As you walked back to Belch’s room, you passed the front door just as Patrick burst in, slamming it closed behind him.

 

“Hey, sugar,” he said.

 

You rolled your eyes. That was a name meant for when he was annoyed with you. If he was annoyed that you insisted he _care_ for a change, then so be it.

 

You loved him, but he could be so detached sometimes that it scared you.

 

You refused to think about it right now.

 

You lead him into Belch’s room, handing Belch a glass of water. He already had two little pills in his other hand, obviously given to him by Henry, who held the bottle. Henry leaned on the wall near the bed.

 

“Drink,” you ordered Belch. He did, swallowing with a little grimace.

 

“Hey, fuckface,” said Patrick.

 

“Hey, asshole,” said Belch.

 

You rolled your eyes. This was what passed as affection between them.

 

Patrick sat down, untying his boot laces. Usually he didn’t take his shoes off for anything other than to fuck, so you wondered what the hell was going on.

 

Then he got onto the bed, curling himself around Belch. Belch was obviously surprised, but didn’t have the energy to say anything about it.

 

“You’re all pussies,” said Patrick.

 

Henry barked out a laugh. “Some of us can’t afford to get sick, Hockstetter.”

 

“So what, so you miss out on some chores. Whatever.”

 

He snuggled in closer to Belch, arranging the covers as he did so that Belch was covered better. Then, surprisingly, he pressed a kiss to Belch’s temple.

 

This was so completely unlike Patrick that you wanted to look away, but you found yourself unable to. It was like a car crash, but made of caring. Or something that looked like it, anyway.

 

Belch was rigid with surprise for a moment before he seemed to think _well, what the hell_ , and he relaxed into Patrick.

 

Vic appeared at the door, holding a big bowl, a spoon in his other hand. He seemed completely unsurprised by Patrick, but whether that was because he actually was, or his poker face was working hard, you couldn’t tell.

 

“Soup,” he said.

 

“You’re the best, baby,” said Belch.

 

Vic came over and handed the bowl to Belch, who had to hold it carefully to not spill it on Patrick.

 

He ate, slowly. It was obviously painful for him to swallow, so you looked away. You knew he needed to eat something, but god. At what cost?

 

“Thanks,” he said slowly. “For being here.”

 

“Where else would we be?” asked Vic.

 

“I dunno. Somewhere having fun without me?”

 

“Wouldn’t be the same,” said Henry. Then he looked away, like that was enough of his heart showing for one day.

 

“Besides, who would drive?” asked Patrick, snuggling closer.

 

“Oh, nice,” you griped.

 

“Shut up,” he sniped back.

 

“I can’t wait until I’m feeling better,” said Belch.

 

“Yeah. The whole town gets a few days off until you do,” said Vic, sitting down in a chair across the room.

 

You stifled a sigh. He was coming around.

 

“Yeah,” said Belch. “When I’m back, we gotta give ‘em hell.”

 

“You know it,” said Henry.

 

“But you gotta get better first,” you said, sitting on the side of the bed that wasn’t full of Patrick.

 

Belch leaned into you.

 

“I’ll be fine, soon. Better now you’re all here,” he said.

 

“Good,” Vic said. “Now fuckin’ eat. I stole that from my mom.”

 

Belch laughed, and you breathed a sigh of relief as his laughter didn’t turn into a coughing fit.

 

“Fine,” he said.

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on tumblr at god--baby.tumblr.com


End file.
